


The Bath

by Nekuyo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bath, Johnlock Gift Exchange, M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sexy Times, exchangelock, jessicamarianaart, shared bath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 08:49:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3061565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekuyo/pseuds/Nekuyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming in from the cold John decides he needs a bath. Sherlock decides to follow him.</p>
<p>My Holiday Exchangelock gift for JessicaMariana who said she wanted something cosy and made mention of shared baths. And didn't mind if it got a little ‘adult’. <br/>I don’t like baths and think that the idea of a shared one is awkward sounding. And so it shall be, but I couldn't think of anything else. <br/>This is literally my first time writing anything Sherlock, and also my first time writing anything…. gay porn-y. I’m very nervous and I’m very sorry if it’s no good. So without further ado…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JessicaMariana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaMariana/gifts).



The Bath

John stomped up the stairs and burst into 221b, soaked to the skin and absolutely fuming. Sherlock followed quickly after him much quieter.

“Now really John, you needn’t be so cross. I told you all we really needed was to flush him—”

“I’m not cross because we didn’t catch him Sherlock.” John said, still scowling. He took off his snow covered jacket and hung it by the door.

“I’m cross because you dragged me out in the middle of the largest blizzard London’s seen in a decade, so we could nearly get ourselves killed, just to track a man you had no intention of actually catching.” John explained. He pulled off his boots and socks and let them thump loudly to the floor.

“But it was-” Sherlock started.

“Not only that, half the Yard’s been closed down anyway due to the power outages from the snow. So I can’t imagine what you’d have had us do with him if we’d actually caught him. Bring him home for tea?” John continued to rant, a bit muffled as he pulled his shirts off over his head.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked, watching as John disentangled himself from his sodden jumper and undershirts. Somewhat distracted by the expanse of bare John chest before him.

“I’m going to take a warm bath, before I catch bloody pneumonia.” John replied.

Really, that should have been evident by the way he was making his way towards the bathroom. Sherlock blamed the somewhat Pavlovian response he’d developed to seeing John undress. It usually led to a series of events that ended with his brain switching off in a very pleasurable manner, so it sometimes jumped the gun and started shutting down early.

The sound of the bathtub faucet turning on in the bathroom restarted his thought process. Sherlock went to the kitchen and started some tea.

John let out a relaxed sigh as steam started wafting through the air as it came off the hot water filling the tub. Hot baths were one of life’s luxuries he allowed himself with any frequency. Living with Sherlock required a reliable way of destressing and one that could be used more than once in a week without worrying about forming a dependency. Though he knew from experience one could really get used to having a reliable source of hot water.

The tub in the bathroom of 221b wasn't very large, which was a bane to a man of Sherlock’s height, but suited John well. As such it took only a few minutes to fill to a good level for soaking and just a few more to cool enough for John to get in.

John got into the tub with a rather satisfying hiss as his chilled body was submerged in the warm water and moved back until his shoulders make contact with the towel resting on the back rim of the porcelain. Bliss.

Sherlock made fun of him for this. Sherlock had a hard time sitting still for anything, taking a lot time in the bathroom for the simple purpose of relaxing was completely lost on him. Not only that but he absolutely hated baths. John was convinced that this was because he only took them when he’s accidentally covered himself in something foul that would be potentially dangerous to shower off because of fumes, but it might also have been because the aforementioned size of the tub. It was hard to appreciate a bath when you and the tub simply weren't compatible sizes.

The sound of the door opening took John out of his musing. Which was odd because Sherlock could generally be relied on to leave John well enough alone while he was soaking. Sherlock was still fully dressed and carrying two mugs of tea. John’s lips twitch as he resisted the urge to smirk.

Sherlock was irrevocably convinced that tea would make John forgive any grievance. It was his go to whenever he thought John was the slightest bit annoyed with him. John hadn’t needed to make a single cup of tea for himself since they’d gotten together.

“Tea?” Sherlock asked from the door.

“Alright.” John replied.

Sherlock walked into the bathroom and handed John his cup of tea before sitting on the the closed toilet seat.

John was forced to admit that it was a bit awkward from that point. There was no place to conveniently set his mug so he couldn’t continue any active bathing, and Sherlock didn’t seem inclined into striking up conversation as was his rather annoying habit when John was in the shower in the morning. Sherlock was just surveying John over the lip of his mug. It made John feel a bit vulnerable actually.

“Sherlock?”

“Why do you like baths, John?” Sherlock asked, knowing John was curious as to what he was doing. His eyes never left John’s submerged body.

“Because they’re enjoyable I suppose.” John replied.

“I’ve never found them so.” Sherlock protested.

“That’s because you've never seen the value in slowing down. Most people like it when they have time to relax. The water is warm and good for easing the pain of muscle tension and arthritis.” John argued. He took a sip of tea and tried not to frown around the rim of the cup, he usually steadfastly refused to think about the condition in his shoulder. He wasn't getting old, he told himself firmly, traumatic injuries don’t count.

Sherlock looked at him for another moment and then stood up abruptly and started shucking off his clothes.

“What are you doing?” John asked.

“I’m joining you.” Sherlock answered as he finished stripping down.

“What? Sherlock there isn't nearly enough room for the both of us.” John protested.

“Nonsense, there’s plenty of cubic space to accommodate the volume of both of us.” Sherlock stepped into the water cautiously.

“I think you’ll find there’s a great deal of difference between the volume and the practicality.” John complained halfheartedly. It was hard to be too upset with the view he had of Sherlock’s arse as he started crouching down.

John quickly scooted back as far as he could to allow room for Sherlock to sit. Water sloshed out of the tub as Sherlock lowered himself into a fully seated position.

“You’ve soaked your suit. And the floor.” John commented. “I’m not cleaning that up.”

“I’ll get it later.” Sherlock said as he lay back against John’s chest.

“Mrs. Hudson will be cross if it leaks through.” John commented. Sherlock didn’t reply.

John shifted uncomfortably at the pressure on his legs. They no doubt looked ridiculous. Sherlock’s legs were so long his knees were nearly to his chest, and John was completely squished against the back of the tub. His own legs were rather braced against either side of the porcelain by Sherlock’s torso. He was starting to go a bit numb.

John let the scene lay for a bit. He sipped at his tea a bit awkwardly around Sherlock’s head, and observed the detective for a moment.

“Enjoying yourself?” John asked after a while, once his legs were really starting to complain.

“The water is warm.” Sherlock commented, tilting his head to look at John.

“Hmm,” John hummed in agreement.

There was another quiet moment before Sherlock clearly started getting uncomfortable. Sherlock squirmed, and then shifted a bit.

“Ow! Fuck!” John exclaimed as bits of him were pinched . He dropped his tea mug, which landed with a wet sounding thump and added tea into the watery mess on the floor.

“Get off, you’re cutting off my circulation.” John said, pushing at Sherlock. Sherlock, with a bit of leverage from John, raised himself out of the bath a few inches to let John rearrange himself. John squirmed forward and detached himself from the porcelain in order to re-position himself. There was a lot of awkward sliding around and rearranging of bits and limbs for the both of them before John finally let Sherlock sit back down.

This was slightly better. John was tilted a bit to the side, one of his legs trailing up the side of the tub and Sherlock sitting astride the other. It was much more comfortable. John wriggled his toes and relished in having the feeling back. He flexed his leg experimentally.

“Ynnph!” Sherlock yelped with his mouth closed. John grinned and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist.

“Better?” John asked.

“Immeasurably.” Sherlock responded, flexing his arse around John’s leg and rocking a bit. John crooked his leg a little more and Sherlock sighed with pleasure.

“Incorrigible bastard.” John chuckled. He wrapped his lips around the juncture of Sherlock’s neck and shoulder and sucked lightly.

“Hardly the case John.” Sherlock disagreed. “I’ve been known to respond well to certain types of correction.”

John contented himself with just making a disbelieving sound as he mouthed his way up Sherlock’s ridiculously long neck to kiss the sensitive spot behind his ear. Sherlock moaned softly and tilted his neck to the side for better access. Sherlock rocked his hips in an attempt to grind against John’s thigh.

John trailed his hand down and wrapped his hand firmly around Sherlock’s cock and gave a long pull, causing a frantic jerking of hips.

“John!” Sherlock gasped. John held Sherlock tightly and ground into his arse. He rubbed his thumb along the head of Sherlock’s penis and relished in the strangled noise he let out.

“Hmm?” John questioned, rubbing a hand over one of the hard little nubs on Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock smacked his hands onto the sides of the tub in a quest for leverage, which he used to buck against John’s leg more effectively.

John let out a low rumble and used his free leg to wrap around one of Sherlock’s to hold him still. He nipped at Sherlock’s throat lightly and continued on with his torment.

Sherlock let out a sound that was dangerously close to a whimper and pounded a hand against the rim of the tub as he squirmed. John continued to to flex his leg, the texture of warm muscle covered sparse damp hair pressed firmly into the underside of Sherlock’s balls and his perineum. His arsecheeks were spread just slightly, allowing the flow of the nearly tepid water into more intimate areas, the contrast between the warm skin and the lukewarm water as the flow tickled his finer body hair was wonderful and distracting and nearly too much.

“John!” Sherlock absolutely howled when John gave another long, slow, pull on his penis. He used his foot against the end of the tub and pushed against John, who was using his leg lock to grind his penis into the side of Sherlock’s arse. John was quickly hardening against Sherlock’s skin, Sherlock could feel John’s balls lifting and tightening against him.

“Time to come for me, love.” John growled into his ear, his hot breath huffing across Sherlock’s skin and making him shiver. John sped up the movements of his hand, what were long steady strokes on his cock became faster and more erratic.

“Yes!” Sherlock shouted his approval of this idea. Sherlock ground into John and yelped when John responded by biting his shoulder. John sucked around his teeth and it was just enough.

Sherlock felt the blood rushing through his groin and just barely registered a vibration through his heel as it pounded against the porcelain and he nearly levitated out of the water with the force.

“Ahh~!” Sherlock yelled as his orgasm hit. His hips gyrated as he rode through the sensation.

Sherlock came back to himself to the sensation of John grinding against him, taking shuddering heavy breaths, his mouth pressed against the bite mark he’d just left.

“God….. yes….. Sherlock.” John nearly whispered against his skin as he moved. Sherlock braced himself with his feet to give John more friction and sighed with satisfaction as he felt John’s hot come spurt against his back.

There was a long moment of satisfied silence as they both came down off of their highs. Sherlock slumped against John in a boneless fashion and John just nuzzled his face into Sherlock’s hair.

“So..?” John asked with a heavy breath.

“Mmmm.” Sherlock replied. John just chuckled.

“We should probably get out, the water’s gone cold.” John pointed out.

“It only feels like that because you’ve significantly raised your body temperature since you’ve gotten in.” Sherlock argued.

“We’re in a bath full of cold water and spunk.” John pointed out.

“I think I sprained my ankle.” Sherlock complained.

“And I’ve absolutely killed my back. Get up.” John said, unhooking his leg and pushing at Sherlock gently.

Sherlock groaned loudly in complaint, but lifted himself up into a standing position on shaky limbs. He stepped out of the tub and helped John detach himself from the porcelain and stand up.

“We should do that again.” Sherlock assessed. John drained the tub and turned on the shower to rinse off.

“Find me a bigger tub and I agreed wholeheartedly.” John groaned as he stretched and popped his back. “Get in here you git.”

“Baths hardly seem necessary if you just have to bathe again afterwards.” Sherlock pointed out as he stepped into the tub with John again.

“We wouldn’t have to bathe again if we hadn’t made the water so unsanitary.” John replied.

Sherlock took advantage of his height and reached over John’s shoulders to grab the soap and pour some on John. John nudged him gently and went to washing.

“I’m still not cleaning the floor.”


End file.
